Today Wasn’t a Waste

Well sweet girl, I’m sorry to say that today feels like another waste. We didn’t do a Pinterest-worthy craft or go to story time at the library or see the mermaids at the aquarium downtown. In fact, today was the second day this week that we didn’t even leave the house. I promise I started the day with good intentions. I wanted to go to the splash park and then stop for Italian Ice on the way home, but then life with a toddler and a baby got in the way. So here I am, lying in bed, racked with guilt, and wondering where our day went astray.

I think about his morning when you asked to pour your own cereal, but then you accidentally spilled most of the box all over the dining room table and the floor. You looked at me and your bottom lip began to quiver, but then I started laughing and you did, too. We giggled and ate cereal off the dining room floor until every single crumb was gone, so needless to say, breakfast lasted a little longer than usual.

And what should have been a five minute trip to the mailbox, today it turned into a thirty minute one, because you insisted on wearing your rain boots and taking your umbrella (It hasn’t rained here in two weeks), and you stopped at least five times to point out sparkly rocks, roly-polys, and old spider webs. But I didn’t tell you to hurry up or grab your hand to move you along more quickly. Instead, I got down on your level and looked at each rock, roly poly, and spider web like it was the coolest thing I have ever seen. By the time we returned from our mailbox adventure, it was almost time for story time at the library, and that’s why I saved our craft project for another day.

But we didn’t make it to story time today, because you spotted your favorite Mo Willems book just as I was packing up to go to the library. You insisted that I read it one more time before we returned it. Then you asked for another book and another, and before I knew it, story time was over, so we decided to stay home and build a fort instead.

After nap you asked if we could make cookies, so I got out all of my measuring cups and the big mixing spoon. I asked you for help gathering the ingredients and we played a little game called “sugar or salt,” which you thought was hilarious. You measured the flour and poured the vanilla, and I pretended I didn’t notice when you ate a spoonful of dough. It may not have been as good as cotton candy Italian ice, but you still had fun.

At bath time we practiced blowing bubbles before our swim lesson tomorrow, and then you got out your foam letters and lined them up along the bathtub wall. I helped you spell your sister’s name and every single character from Daniel Tiger. While you splashed around, we listened to the Disney Pandora station and you laughed when I sang along to music from “The Little Mermaid.”

At bedtime tonight, when I leaned in to give you one last goodnight kiss, you wrapped your arms around me and said, “I love you mommy. I had fun today,” and I wondered how this was possible. I mean, we didn’t even leave the house. But your words stuck with me and made me think that maybe, just maybe, today wasn’t a complete waste.

We may not have gone anywhere exciting, but at the very least you were fed and bathed and cared for. Our day may have been painfully ordinary, but you still laughed and learned and discovered. You felt accepted and encouraged, and most importantly, loved. No, today wasn’t a waste, not even a little. Today was perfect.